A Father's Care
by WildAndFreeHearts
Summary: Odin deals with his younger son's Jotunn heat-cycles. (Odin/Loki)


**This story has a few themes that could be squicky to some, so PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!**

**Warnings:** Odin/Loki pairing, Intersex!Loki, Rape/Non-con References, Dubious Consent, References of Underage Sex, Jotunn Heat Cycles, [Pseudo-/Quasi-] incest, and of course Odin's A+ Parenting

**This is a fill for semiseverus on Norsekink over on LJ She asked for this:**

"You know all those "Loki goes into heat because he's an intersex Jotunn and somebody has to sex him up" fics? Give me that, except with Odin doing the sexing.  
Ever since Loki had his first heat, Odin has been helping him deal with it, because who else is he going to trust with knowledge of the Jotunn!Loki secret? They both know the relationship is wrong, but for Odin it's gone from "helping my son even though it's kinda squicky" to "I can't help myself finding this incredibly hot," while for Loki it's been going on for so many years that it's twisted his desires into being seriously fucked up."

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Loki hardly remembers the first time it happened. He was too young then and even his long-eternal mind is not able to reach back far enough. He counts it as a small blessing. He can, however remember the first time Odin seemed to be doing it just because he wanted to, not because Loki was sick. He remembers through the haze of euphoria and ancient memory the twisted smile on the Gallows God's face, as he had licked a hot stripe from Loki's anus to the nape of his neck, his young body shuddering, bent double over the golden arm of the high-throne, Hlidskjálf. The very essence of his blood had been thrumming a hypnotic chant of _'Yes, yes, yes!' _even as his suffocated logical mind had been screaming_'Father, please stop!'_

Loki felt a shiver skirt up his spine as he stared into the full length mirror found in his chambers. His eyes were red and the skin of his face seemingly drawn taunt, making his already sharp cheek bones appear even more harsh. His lips were parted due to his ragged breathing. His hands trembled, despite all his attempts to cease their shaking. His sickness was coming early this year. His heart jumped in his chest franticly, though in fear or anticipation he was frighteningly unsure.

Odin had taken note of Loki's worsening condition and was quite pleased. He had vaguely wondered if his younger son's now matured Jötunn body would lengthen the times between heats, however it looked as if the opposite were true; Loki's heat was almost an entire three months early. Odin might have thought to praise the Gods if it didn't feel so self-serving and treacherous.

Now it was just a waiting game. Given enough time Loki would come of his own will to lay in the Allfather's bed, yet that sometimes became tedious; Odin was the God of War, but he did frequently prefer action over all the strategic stalling tactics. He wanted Loki _now._

Over the last season his younger son had blossomed, leaving the gangly burden of childhood behind and become a mysterious and sensual new creature, slender and lean, with an interesting new gleam of freshly tapped magic in his eye. He had had to frighten away many aspiring suitors because of the new found sensuality of movement his younger son was now blessed with. No one would be allowed to have Loki while Odin ruled as King; no one would discover the secret of Loki's Jötunn heritage. So far he had been lucky, as Loki himself had not sought out the company of others during his cycles… it would have been quite a bother for Odin to kill even more than he did already, after all he wasn't called the God of the Hanged for nothing.

But it truly had given Odin something to ponder on as the years had stretched and Loki had not turned to others, instead _choosing_ to stay only with Odin. Loki was now a full grown man in his own right, with many an appreciative eye drawn towards him, yet all indications pointed to the possibility of his still stead-fast choice of the Allfather. The thought caused the Kings pride and prick alike to swell. Yes, this was going to be the most exhilarating heat to date and Odin was ready.

Loki's sanity was slipping; he was going to give in soon now. Both his cock and pussy are very engorged and hyper-active, revving and rearing into action at the slightest brush of his own robes across his thighs. His whole body felt tender, like it hand been rubbed raw or charred by a hot bolt of lightning from Thor's hammer, Mjollnir.

He was now frequently found wandering the halls of Valaskjálf, with no rhyme or reason to his direction, yet thinking that he must get where he was going soon. Even the most menial of spells seemed to slip and slither out of his mind's grasp. It was like this every time; like slowly losing his mind.

The pain was unbearable, as were the fits of uncontrollable sweats that broke over him in waves, crashing over him, leaving him shaking and battered. It mattered little if he wore less clothing, for it was not a natural heat that overtook him but a sickness from his own weak body.

It was drawing toward the time to end his own suffering; even if it meant submitting to the vainglorious oppressor who awaited him. Loki was sure that if he continued in the fashion he was much longer he would die.

Odin was waiting when Loki reached the King's private chambers. The Gallows God was sitting upon his grand bed, his eyes trained out-ward to some unfathomable distance; spying. However, as Loki silently closed the door behind him, Odin locked eyes with him, a lecherous smile splitting his face, golden eye-patch gleaming in the soft fire-light of torches upon the wall.

Loki had waited until the darkest hour of night, before finally allowing himself to give in to the incessant primal drives of his body. Now, as his father rises, robes open and spilling golden, silhouetting over his father's bare skin, he wonders if he might have tried harder to stay away; part of him wonders if he really didn't ever want to in the first place.

The Allfather flicked his wrist, instantly dissolving Loki's robes from his trembling body. "Get on your knees and show your King his due gratitude."

Loki did. And many other things before the night was done. He slunk away in the early sunlight in shame to his own chambers, coated in filth and semen, as he always did, the deathly burning blessedly replaced with his normal comforting coolness.

Lying in his own bed he contemplated both his current feelings of stretched, ripped fullness, and empty, hollow, void-like nothingness. He loved it, he hated it; he wanted more… he always had and he always would. He would always belong to Odin.

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~ Let me know what you guys think! Thanks for reading! ~


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